


We Pick Ourselves Undone

by ltomlinstagram



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smoking, basically a list of the things harry loves about louis, that's it that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ltomlinstagram/pseuds/ltomlinstagram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes outside for a smoke and ends up just daydreaming about Louis.<br/>Title from Flaws by Bastille</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Pick Ourselves Undone

Harry inhales the acrid smoke deep into his lungs, tries to feel it seeping into the marrow of his bones. It’s his first drag of the cigarette and he knows if he gets caught with it he’ll get a ‘stern talking to’ but he’s in a city he can’t remember, nor pronounce, the name of and he’s so completely tired of everything. Sometimes, he just wants a day off. Not one of those scheduled days they get every once in a while, but a day off as if he had a proper job; one where if he could just call in sick and spend the whole day tangled in cool sheets and warm limbs. 

Harry doesn’t smoke; that’s what he tells himself anyways. That’s what he tells everyone else too. Management would probably go mental if a pap happened to get a shot of him doing it. Zayn can do it though, he can do it all he wants and nobody ever says anything. He needs to retain that ‘bad boy image’ is what they tell them. Zayn’s anything but a bad boy, Harry thinks. Zayn’s just a big ole softy with a leather jacket and a false identifier. 

There’s a bang of the heavy door behind him hitting the concrete wall and Harry jumps a little bit and stubs out his fag before brushing it off the railing to the bushes below. There’s still a cloud of smoke surrounding him so he couldn’t deny anything but getting rid of the physical evidence was instinct. He spins around and tries to act as collected as possible, leaning on the railing and crossing his arms and ankles. 

Oh.

“Give me one.” Is all Louis says. Louis doesn’t smoke like Harry doesn’t. So Harry digs out the packet and plucks two little addictions wrapped in white out while Louis reaches for his lighter. It’s a pale pink colour with a dragon twisting around it. Harry picked it out in a shop and Louis said it was tacky; He bought it anyway. Harry sticks the filter in between his lips and leans forward so Louis can light it. His hand cups the flame and Harry breathes in until the end is smouldering. Louis lights his as well and rests his arms on the railing where Harry had extinguished his previous cigarette, looking every bit like one of those people that artists in the renaissance would have painted hundreds of portraits of. Harry thinks Louis was born to be looked at. 

Louis is silk when he moves. His lips wrap around the filter and his cheeks hollow as he sucks in. Harry has had this internal debate with himself ever since he laid eyes on the older boy; He can’t ever seem to decide what part of Louis is his favorite. At first, he thought it was his arse. Not that he doesn’t love Louis’ arse; he does. A lot. He has quite a few fond memories that involve it. He especially loves the crease where it meets his thigh. Harry’s hands can grip his whole arse perfectly. But then he noticed the chip in one of his front teeth and he thought _yeah, that’s the best thing about Louis._ Harry still likes to run his tongue across it. He told Louis this once and he got smacked for ‘being weird’. It was a fond type of smack though. Then again, almost everything Louis does to Harry is done fondly. 

Louis exhales quiet fumes, releasing ribbons of charcoal into the grey morning sky and taking another deep drag, practically showing off his bone structure and Harry thinks _oh yeah._ For a while, he thought he loved his cheekbones and the little dips underneath them where sometimes they would catch shadows the best. They have the power to completely send him reeling over the edge sometimes if Louis looks up at him through his eyelashes with his lips stretched taunt around Harry. That’s another thing Harry thought was his favorite, his eyelashes. He likes the way they fan out, splayed across Louis’s sunshine skin when he sleeps. Harry used to think of Louis as his sunshine boy; He still does, if he’s being perfectly honest. Who could blame him though, really. His skin practically glows. Louis once called Harry his moonbeam man and Harry thought maybe he didn’t want to call Louis his sunshine boy for a while because the sun and the moon don’t really get to see each other that often.

One time Harry told Louis that his hands were dainty because they were his favorite at the time. Louis scoffed and claimed that his hands were more manly than Harry’s would ever be. They both knew that was a lie but Harry didn’t argue; He just traced each crease with his own fingertips and memorized each whorl. Sometimes they just lie in bed and Harry gets to telling Louis exactly what he thinks of each part of his body. It’s not unnatural for him to spend at least ten minutes going on about his thighs. But Harry found himself feeling the rises of Louis’ bones in his ankles and he decided that’s what he liked best. About an hour after that, he was making Louis arch up from the mattress, all broken and pliant and he changed his mind again. His whole hand could span the curve of the small of Louis’ lower back and he liked that a whole bunch. Another night, he discovered just how much he liked his collarbones too. Harry told Louis he wanted to curl up in a little ball and sleep in the dip between them. Louis said that he could try, if he wanted. Instead, Harry decided that marking them purple was just as satisfying. 

And then Louis has finished his fag and Harry realizes he isn’t anywhere close to finishing his own so he drops it to the ground and crushes it with the heel of his shoe. Louis is looking at him now and Harry always feels a little bit lightheaded when he does that. Louis pushed his hair back, running his fingers through it. Harry used to think he liked his fringe better than this new hairstyle but he gets it; it’s much easier to style and they’re both addicted to convenience. He thinks he could definitely change his stance on the fringe though because now he can always see this tiny freckle above his right eyebrow. Harry knows if he mentions it, Louis will try to cover it up so he leaves the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he cups Louis’ face and drops a kiss to his most favorite freckle. He forgets sometimes that he Louis is a better relaxer than any cigarette.


End file.
